ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING, ADDRESSED TO MISS Dear simple girl, those flattering arts, (From which thou'dst guard frail female hearts,) Exist but in imagination, Mere phantoms of thine own creation; But envy in the other raises. Then he who tells thee of thy beauty, ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL.' WHERE are those honours, IDA! once your own, When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne? As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace, Hail'd a Barbarian in her Cæsar's place, So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate, And seat Pomposus where your Probus sate. Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul, Pomposus holds you in his harsh con troul; Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd, With florid jargon, and with vain parade; With noisy nonsense, and new-fangled rules, (Such as were ne'er before enforc'd in schools). Mistaking pedantry for learning's laws, [In March, 1805. Dr Drury, the Probus of the piece, retired from the Head-mastership of Harrow School, and was succeeded by Dr Butler, the Pomposus. "Dr Drury," said Byron, in one of his note-books, "was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father."] |